Ever Newly Old
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
Each time that Homer spoke his epics, they
Were new. His improvising made the old
A new creation slightly. He could play
With ready-made expressions and be bold
Because he knew that this or that king, chief,
Or queen would much prefer one ancient phrase
And not another. Kings might like torn grief,
The roar for dead friend to be sung in ways
That fitted their bronze thoughts, and shadowed queens
Behind the curtains might desire the lines
About Athena honed in battle scenes
With eyes of gray like lead. The poet’s mines
Of set precisions could be called upon
To make the ancient midnight words a dawn.